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| - It was with this mentality that eighteen year old Lionel decided one hot summer day to take a few sheets of LSD with him to a cabin in the hills, and not come back down until he had written the great American novel. One week later, Lionel had scribbled a penis on a large sheet of architectural graphing paper. As the days progressed, he had actually drawn out a semi-coherent building design within the penis, little by little, but other than that relatively useless bit of doodling, Lionel was no closer than he had been to writing the great American novel, and he had already used up three sheets of acid.
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abstract
| - It was with this mentality that eighteen year old Lionel decided one hot summer day to take a few sheets of LSD with him to a cabin in the hills, and not come back down until he had written the great American novel. One week later, Lionel had scribbled a penis on a large sheet of architectural graphing paper. As the days progressed, he had actually drawn out a semi-coherent building design within the penis, little by little, but other than that relatively useless bit of doodling, Lionel was no closer than he had been to writing the great American novel, and he had already used up three sheets of acid. In a moment of desperation, Lionel tore open (literally tore open) one of several large volumes of poetry and literature he had brought along for his stay in the mountains. In his delusional state, he flipped directly to the Japanese haiku section of his freshman year Language Arts book. Naturally, it seemed brilliant to him, and he immediately got to work (after popping another couple tabs, for good measure). What follows is an annotated, and abridged version of Lionel Potter's great American book of haikus relating to everyday objects, most often office supplies, for no discernible reason. He aptly entitled the work One Hundred And Seventy Three Haikus About Stuff; Mostly Office Supplies.
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